Making Higher Education Family Friendly
Written by Kaitlyn Corlett
This National Indigenous Peoples Day and throughout National Indigenous History Month, I’ve been thinking a lot about what this means to me. While days of recognition are significant and obviously important, as an ally to communities, I often ask myself ‘What next?’. Not for the communities themselves, but rather for myself. What’s next for me in active allyship – and what can I do in my life, circle of influence or with folx I engage with?
By Heather Watts, Shamim Ahmed, and Kaitlyn Corlett
Midnight has struck, the ball has dropped, and we are well into a new year, and a new decade. While 2020 certainly challenged us (to put it lightly), we have learned a lot about ourselves and our world. The rhetoric around welcoming a new year usually surrounds what we need to improve upon; what we need to start doing more of in our lives to grow our success. It is important not only to think through habits and practices we want to shed as we step into the new year, habits and practices we want to take up or start, but also honour what has sustained us and what has served us well. We, at the Redefining Traditional Team invite you to re-think your approach to a New Year’s Resolution, and reflect on what you want to stop, what you want to start, and what you want to continue.
By Heather Watts
Throughout my childhood, I lived in a number of different communities and homes. Burlington, Ottawa, and Cambridge, Massachusetts are just a few placed I have called ‘home’ over the years. Our moves across Turtle Island were a result of different career opportunities my father pursuing. I remember the networks of friends and family that supported me as a young child: Anna in Burlington, Tara in Ottawa, and Robin and Charmaine in Cambridge. I’m sure there are many others, but these are folks I have vivid memories of riding bicycles in the driveway, taking long walks down our residential street, and playing hours of Monopoly with (you know you’re making an investment of time when you sit down to play Monopoly!) To these people, I thank you. You weren’t merely babysitters, or but people who I looked up to, confided in, and leaned on during my younger years.
Originally published by the University of Toronto’s Innovation Hub. Written by Lead Writer & Editor, Terri-Lynn Langdon.
I am a wheelchair- using mother and a PhD student at OISE in Social Justice Education. When the lockdown in Toronto began we lost access to daycare and we also lost more than one support person (Nurturing Assistants) who felt that their own lives were too disrupted by the pandemic to continue to provide ongoing support to us. Without this direct support neither myself nor my child can shower safely, and I have no means of taking my twenty-one month old outside on my own. On top of which our building has been plagued with significant apartment maintenance issues all summer which has meant I have had to solve big family pandemic issues for 4 months and counting….
By Shamim Ahmed
I was sitting on the couch, reading a popular “Bengali”[1] fiction, and all of a sudden heard my daughter mumbling “brutal”. I looked at her once, and again went back to my reading when I heard her infuriatingly saying “that’s totally unacceptable”. I took a pause from my reading, sat back properly, looked at the television and saw that horrid image of a policeman sitting on the road with his knee placed firmly on a person’s neck with a stone face. I was a little startled whether my 12-years old daughter should be watching this, but then she left on her own without saying much. I inquisitively continued to watch the news and came to know about the horrific act of killing George Floyd, a 46-year-old black American, during an arrest for allegedly using a counterfeit bill. To be frank, I came to know about the allegation at least two weeks after the killing, as I was not curious about the reason why a person could be killed so brutally. I had no idea why a person should be treated so inhumanely as if he was not a living object. I was shocked.
By Heather Watts
You were born late on a cold November night. At that moment, I also experienced a rebirth of sorts. When you were first placed in my arms, I felt more weight than the 10 pounds 2 ounces announced by the nurse. I felt the weight of your safety; physical, emotional, spiritual, and the great honour bestowed upon me to guide you through life. The weight of responsibility was overwhelming. You watch my every move, listen to my every word, and observe every emotion. What traditions I decide to practice, what language I speak, my hobbies, how I deal with sorrow, how I express joy, are all going to shine through as ‘the way’ to be.